


Decent and Convenient

by Mirkys_Concubine



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Dark Character, F/F, F/M, Lesbian Sex, Light BDSM, Possessive Behavior, Reader-Insert, Rough Sex, Smut, Some Humor, Some Plot, Top Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:40:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23311024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mirkys_Concubine/pseuds/Mirkys_Concubine
Summary: It was just Sex. Decent Sex. Not the best sex you'd ever have but it was convenient and Roger's was good enough lay to keep around for a while. A short tale of an agent who doesnt fall head over heals at the sight of a shiny shield and a Captain who is annoyed at that fact.*Part of my Tumblr Addiction*This is one of those Y/N Y/L/N monstrosities
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Female Character, Original Female Character/Original Male Character, Steve Rogers/Original Character(s), Steve Rogers/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have a Tumblr :) this is inspired by the shit ton of Dark!Steve x Reader I'm addicted too.  
> Asshole Steve with a dark edge.  
> Reader Character is random and loves sex so please feel free to cringe or giggle at my sad attempt at smut!  
> Also - Y/N (your name) Y/L/N (your last name) bs.  
> Besos.

❇1❇  
It was just sex.  
Decent sex.  
Not the best sex you'd ever had but it was convenient and Rogers did have a thick cock. It wasn't the longest which was great because he fucked and he fucked hard but he made your pussy work to stretch over his girth.  
Kissing? Not much. He was okay at it you guessed.  
Oral? Pfft. A bit of scissoring and bam. All done.  
Not that you minded much, you'd rather not have it vs frustratingly bad cunny time. Secretly you think he's just sucky at it. Roger was a generous lover and you did orgasm most times, sometimes more than once if the man flicked your clit just right.  
Then again it was just sex.   
Decent sex.  
Convenient sex.  
He called you Y/L/N and you called him Roger or "fucking bastard" when you really wanted to rile him up.  
No dates, no cuddles, just sex.  
It was fine.  
Totally fine.  
A cute ass and decent smile wasn't a hall pass to fall in love. No. You were paired in missions, you trained together, you've bickered to the point you've jumped out of a plane to just get away from him, and you weren't investment worthy.  
No.   
Captain America was looking for a wife.  
The pretty blond from marketing.  
The other pretty blond from the mail room.  
There was the pretty blond haired cheerleader who was Pepper's third assistant. A brand new hire. Fresh meat.  
She was cute. Too innocent for your taste but a perfect compliment to the golden boy next door.  
You were good.  
🔅  
The mission had been a hard one. A 2 day excursion that tumbled into an endless abyss of cat and mouse. Having your cover blown and running short on everything wasn't knew.  
Starving wasn't new.   
Exhaustion wasn't new.  
Finding your handler quartered and drawn had been interesting. The death wasn't new though.  
Stumbling into HYDRA territory and scraping your way out of the fucking jungle. Now THAT had been new.  
Sitting in a quinjet after making a desperate call from an enemy landline had been risky. Honestly you didn't think anyone would show but someone did.   
You'd run out of amo.  
You'd run out of sanity.  
You'd been shot at - clean through - and once the grime was washed off you, there was more beneath it all. A bullet wound was the least of your worries.  
The help arrived just as you tumbled down a hillside and hit a dam boulder. The other man you knocked down with you wasn't so lucky and landed atop a very angry snake.   
At first you tried to fight but Captain America of all people swooped in and tossed you over his shoulder and carried you into the jet.  
Here you were, strapped into a seat because you refused to lay down and finally could let your guard down.  
In the distance you could hear Rogers speaking to someone. His tone was clipped - he sounded angry. "Y/N anything life threatening I should be aware of?" A woman knelt in front of you, her uniform was typical for a field medic.   
God, where did you start? "Shoulder. Bullet." You close your eyes and settle back in your seat exhausted. "Knife. Hip and abdomen."  
"Permission to remove your vest?"  
The clothes you wore were HYDRA issue and the vest saved your life actually. Of course it was stolen off a dead body but it would do. You nod and the woman gets to work but there's mud caked everywhere. "Cut it Off." You say as the jet rocks gently. The woman looks hesitant, "if you knick me I won't take it personal. Promise." You lift a hand with two fingers up, "Scout's honor."  
The medic does manage to knick you. To be fair the jet had hit a rough patch and it wasn't deep. She swore and apologized but Rogers was there. The man was quick and unflinching as the knife cut through your vest and caked mud that fell to the ground with a plop.  
You were dirty, you smelled, and your wounds were infected. Roger's had left once he relaized you weren't going to entertain his interrogation.   
It wasn't long before you couldn't keep your eyes open and you sagged limp against the medic who squeaked.   
❇to conclude...❇


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> welcome to the Dark Side. Aka Lesbian Fluff. There's nutella and strawberries on this side. Better than the light side that is stale cookies.

**❇2❇**  
Dreams weren't normal for you.   
Nightmares yes but the best way to not fall into a nightmare was to either exhaust yourself or fall into bed with someone.  
It probably wasn't the most healthy coping method but it _worked_.  
Roger's was just sex.  
It was convenient but inconsistent.   
He had kept his distance once you arrived back to the compound. They had put you to sleep - you made a horrible patient - and treated many of your wounds.  
Later you would read the questionable line of possible 'vaginal trauma' and had a hard long in depth scouring of your own memories before you spoke with your nurse to let them know that you weren't a rape victim. There had been close calls, too many to count, it was an unfortunate risk but the actual physical act? No.  
You still went for counseling though. A mandatory visit bi-weekly and an open line of communication via text or face time. You didn't bother with the extras and kept to your self medication of getting back into the old you and finding someone to fall into bed with.  
Someone who would stay there.  
You didn't need a white picket fence with 2.5 kids and a dog... Well the dog you'd love to have but the kids? No.  
Let's just be honest you wanted something tangible because even you knew, eventually you'd hit an empass and fall - Hard - or kill yourself eventually.

.

The phone on your nightstand lit up. You only noticed because you were wide awake contemplating if you should stay in bed, maybe bake something, or go to the gym.  
Picking up your phone the familiar International number flashed on the screen then went dark. Soon after another number appeared and it was local. The picture of a smiling poop emoji told you that the gym was off limits and so was baking.   
It was better if you stayed in bed wrapped up with a brunette you'd spent a solid week flirting with to get to this point. Most times woman were softer and stayed till breakfast vs men. 

.

Outside your window dressed in civilian clothes stood Steve Rogers. He settled against a car and hit redial on his phone, peering up into the kitchen window he knew belonged to you he waited impatiently.  
He knew you were there.  
The gps on your car blipped in the lower level garage and your phones microchip said you were home as well. A quick conversation to JARVIS even told him you weren't alone. Rogers didn't believe a Miss Stacey Adams - the medic who tended to you weeks ago - just happened to be on the same floor as you or Stark issued phone that close in proximity.   
He was tempted to ring your doorbell but he dialed your number again and again.

.

Breakfast was waffles and real maple syrup in places that were questionable. Stacey had offered to take the fun back to the bedroom but you were content laying her on your table and refinding all her sweet spots. Her nipples weren't as sensitive as yours, she could cum by just you tongue fucking her navel which was something you were jealous over, her pussy was shaved and you pretty much gushed over her labias.  
Stacey had been bashful the night before and hesitant to have you down there but two fingers curved against her gspot had blissed out her hesitation.  
She tasted clean and faintly of your body wash. She was slick and her clit throbbed but your were gentle as you swirled your tongue over her nub and sucked. Stacey was vocal and you loved her pants and soft moans, her smooth thighs clenching around your head and the way her fingers tugged you away and up for another kiss had been... delightful.  
Even now, spread on the tabletop, her breasts spilling over and your tongue laving at her navel sticky from syrup she was beautifully responsive.  
Your fingers played between her folds, the lightest of touches against her clit, she'd called you mean and pleaded for more but she was so easy to crash into orgasm after orgasm.  
Sensitive.  
Sweet.  
Soft.  
Delicate.  
Innocent.  
For someone who had been on the field and elbow deep in bodies, Stacey didn't have a hard edge to her. Even when she lapped at your pussy and kissed your clit she wasn't a closet nympho with a fetish of any kind.  
A full bottle of wine told you Stacey was the girl who would stitch up a bullet wound but was a princess in the sheets.  
Not that you minded the gentle waves of your orgasm or how she giggled and kissed you or her blush when you pulled out your dildo that was quickly swapped for something less... Intimidating. The vibrator didn't do much for you, it was more of a 'rite of passage' toy but for Stacey it was enough to make her feel 'naughty'.  
A bit of fresh whip cream and fresh strawberries added to the breakfast had been the dirtiest and sinful experience in Stacey's sexcapades. It had been a while since you taken such control of a situation let alone tamed that aggressive sex kitten side of yourself.  
Was it good or bad that Stacey was the first person you slept with since coming back from that shit show of a mission?  
Watching her fall apart - again - and begging so sweetly, "please... Please... Y/N... No more... Please..." Was enough for now.   
You were wet, your clit throbed, you wanted to push yourself over that edge of pain and pleasure but you kept your hands off yourself and helped Stacey to the bathroom.  
You washed her hair, gently sponged her skin with your organic body wash, and towel dried her. Her kisses were gentle and sweet.   
You lead her to the bed and sat her down. The lotion was unscented and you rubbed it against her skin with gentle strokes and whispers of adoration. Her lidded eyes watched as you massaged her fingers and feet, she blinked lazily with a smile.  
If you weren't **you** and possibly a normal person with a normal job this would be enough. It could be enough. A lifetime worth of harshness and to come home to a soft innocence felt tempting but... you'd break her. Be a dissapointment. Eventually it would wear thin and you would be responsible for Stacey to be less **this**.   
So you dressed her in something from your closet. A long floral skirt and a sweater that was a pale blue and had the words 'Bunny' written in pink cursive.  
It paired well with with the flats she had come in with. "Y/N." She reached out and stroked your cheek with a blush on her cheeks.  
"Shh, I got you. You didn't eat breakfast, how about I make you some of that green tea you like and some fruit oatmeal?" It was her favorite oatmeal and you had purchased a box of the instant stuff for 'just in case'.   
Her smile was sweet and you handled her with gentle hands as you walked hand in hand to the living room sectioned off by a thick carpet. Setting her down on the sofa you handed her the remote and set a pot of water to boil.  
Instant oatmeal and a bag of green tea later you sat beside Stacey intent on ignoring the fact your kitchen table was wiped clean and the sink held the dirty dishes of your ruined breakfast earlier. The whip cream was in the fridge tucked beside a basket of leftover strawberries and the syrup was where it normally goes.  
If your smile is tight and conversation stilted Stacey doesn't take notice.   
Someone had been in your apartment.  
Someone had been **inside** as you took care of your lover and you didn't suspect a thing.  
Someone had possibly seen what you've been up to.  
Someone... No not Someone. You're sure you know who it is.   
Fuck him.  
Fuck him and his games.  
❇to be concluded...❇

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did we survive the lesbian bits?   
> It wasn't too horribly written? Lol.  
> Considering I'm more of a gay shipper this was fun :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> we come to some spanking.  
> A lil sparring 'abuse'.  
> We get some sex.  
> Is it captain America? Uuuuuuhhh...

**❇3✳**

Spite was a great motivator.

It pushed you to accept an invitation to dinner a few days later. The gloves in your hand were heavy, the sweat on your brow stung your eyes, and the familiar ache in your body motivated you to push on. Your sparring partner Mika was a burly man a foot taller than you and far too muscled to be natural but Mika was the sweetest.

He was the type of guy who pulled out your chair, held the door open, and volunteered at the soup kitchen. Mika was also a beast in the bedroom. His cock was proportioned to his body and his mouth was absolutely sinful. Which was a good thing - he didn't last all too long - but for the moments the two of you were connected it was a delicious agony of wanting more.

Biology was an unfortunate shit show. The punches, kicks, and ducks were routine. Every hit that landed on you bloomed into you fighting harder and faster until it wasn't just a practice.

There was no one else in the training room - or there wasn't supposed to be - the sun was still asleep. A punch to the chest knocked you off your feet and a 200 plus man sat atop you. A brick that waited for you to lash out and fight against being pinned down. Soon your chest is heaving and legs splayed out on the mat.

"What's your name?" Mika asks like he does when you're like this. You grunt and he bears down on you with more of his weight, "What. Is. Your. Name?"

"Y/N." You say.

"Full name." A gloved hand taps you on the face and you glare and tell him. "Where are You?"

"I'm good." He taps taps the other side of your face and it's rougher. "Where are you Y/N?" Another tap hits you on the face and it's harder.

"Get off." You punch him in the crotch, it's covered by a cup but you don't care. Another hit makes you taste blood and he sits heavier on you. "Mi-Mika!"

"Where are you Y/N?"

"Off!" Hit, "Fuck!" You cover your face and it's solid blows one after the other and the pain builds and builds until you give in with a shout, "New York!" But the hits keep coming, "Tower... Compound... Trai-training... Thursday!"

The hits stop and the weight atop you lifts. "Good girl." Mika was a sweetheart but he was also an asshole. A very dramatic caring asshole who grabbed you by an ankle and dragged you along the floor like some neanderthal with a kill and you cuss him out in all the languages you knew. From the shadows a body shifts and moves but neither of you see them.

.

Dinner had been at your place. While you didn't care if you went out looking like you fought a wall and lost Mika didn't want to eat wondering if the waitstaff spit in his food. You ordered a Chef salad and soup. He got a large pizza to himself.

The tequila shots made you steal the mushrooms on his pizza the Margaritas he blended and drank loosened up his exhibitions.

The Jason marathon wasn't the best flick to orgasm to but riding Mikas face and feeling him suck on your clit and slurp at your juices made up for the screaming on the television. A whimper escaped you and your thighs trembled, eyes closed you lost yourself to the rough flat tongue and soft suction.

Mika let you go and your hips were moving wanting more, just **more**. "Ah... Oh God... Oh fuck..."

**smack**

Searing hot pain on your ass tipped you over and you were cumming. Hard. Mika groaned and latched onto your clit and sucked, tongue flicking. "Sstop. Please. Oh fuck." Mika hands gripped your thighs and held you in place, face rubbing against your core. "Fuck I'm cumming." Another wave hit you and your body shook, thighs clenching, breasts heaving.

"Come on." Mika shoves you off him and your back is pressed against the carpet and he has two fingers shoved deep in your pussy making your back arch and sob. There's no pausing, he steals another orgasm from you, one hand pressing down your stomach and his fingers drenched in your cum as he rubs against against that special spot. "So fucking tight. That's it Y/N cum for me."

Your hands clamp over your mouth. It hurts but your pussy clenches and Mika stares down at your swollen pussy fluttering around his fingers. "That's it. Your such a slut for daddy aren't you?" His fingers slip out and his hand smacks down on your pussy and your body jerks. "Say it." He smacks you again and again.

"Daddy... Fuck!" Your hand grips his thick wrist as he shoves three fingers, deep, and right there. That perfect spot. Again. "Mika..." The tips of his fingers move and your eyes flutter, "Daddy... Please... Daddy..." Fingers fist your hair and he tugs it back forcing you to arch and brace yourself. "Fu..." Your chest heaves and another finger slips in. It hurts but it feels so fucking good. "Daddy..." It's a breathless moan, "Daddy... Please... Daddy... Fuck me."

"In position." Those magic fingers are gone and so is the hand in your hair. Scrambling you settle yourself on your knees, pussy on full display, spine curved as you press yourself on the carpet. From behind you hear the slip of leather and metal as a belt is undone. "Look at you. So wet."

You jerk and cry as the soft leather of his belt smacks you right over your puckered asshole. "That's it baby." Fingers dip into your pussy and smear you juices over your puckering hole. "Daddy wants this sweet ass later."

"Please daddy."

**smack**

**smack**

**smack**

You drop to the ground, ass on fire, tears in your eyes. A hand rubs an ass cheek. "Back to position." The hand is gone and you tremble as you put yourself back in position. Pussy empty and dripping. "That's a good girl. You want to be a good girl for daddy don't you baby?"

"Yes." A finger drags from your clit to ass and circle the dark nub that clenched at the wet touch.

"Yes what?" You push back on the hand and it was gone.

**smack**

A bare hand settled over the red welts left over from the belt and you cry out. It hurt. It hurt so fucking good. "Yes What?"

Biting your lip you brace yourself for another hit. Be it from the belt or bare hand... But it doesn't come. No caresses. No words. Nada. The oomph of a body sprawling itself on your couch has you sitting up. Wide eyed. Surprised. "Mika?" You whine sitting up. The muscular man spared you a look before picking up a slice of pizza and settle back into the couch. "Mika."

No... He wouldn't... Couldn't...

"Finish your soup." He bites into his pizza and laughs when you toss the remote control at his head. The snowglobe on the coffee table was tempting but it was your favorite. "Asshole!"

❇to be concluded❇

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *peeks out between fingers*  
>  **cackles**


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hmm... Text convo.  
> Kinda brief.  
> Poor captain.

**❇4❇**

-an interlude-

* * *

The ache between your legs doesn't wake you. Maybe it was the awkward position you fell asleep in. Mika was spread out taking over as much room as his mass could, your pillow was an arm and you lower half was bent enough so that your legs were sprawled on him. A cool breeze against your naked skin made you hyper aware of the layer of sweat and cum that clung to you.  
Darkness was broken by your phone lighting up from where it sat charging. Fingers tugging the charger cord you tugged gently and picked up you phone, the light switching off again.  
A poop emoji flashed on the screen.  
It had been a long time since you spent any private time with Rogers. The Captain was avoiding you on purpose, he'd even requested a transfer from a mission - twice.  
You contemplated shutting off your phone. You should. A wordless 'fuck you' would be a great way to end a good night.  
The screen flashed and _new message_ appeared. It was from the poop emoji. You should ignore him. You were going to - you tell yourself - but another and another message forced you to open your phone and read.

_**💩: Status?** _   
_**💩: in the area.** _   
_**💩: ignoring me now?** _   
_**💩: seriously?** _   
_**💩: ??? 😒** _   
_**💩: 😑 I know you're home.** _   
_**💩: on my way** _   
_**💩: don't ignore me. Pick up your dam phone and behave like a god dam adult.** _   
_**💩: bullshit.** _   
_**💩: pick** _   
_**💩: Up** _   
_**💩: Your** _   
_**💩: Fucking** _   
_**💩:** _ _**Phone** _   
_**💩:** _ _**are you being a good whore for someone else y/n?** _

  
Your message status is left at _read_ and you sigh. Of course. You forgot. Dots filled a bubble and another message appears.

  
_**💩: Pussy too sore for my cock?**_  
_**Y/N: worn out. Some other time Rogers.**_  
_**💩: your mouth isn't**_  
_**💩: worn out**_  
_**💩: quick**_  
You roll your eyes. Why are you even trying to be nice?  
_**Y/N: good night. 😪**_

  
Dots appear and you exit out of the chat and shut your phone off.  
"Work?"  
Mika awake is unexpected but you shake your head and adjust yourself so you're tucked against him.  
"Sleep or another round?" His fingers card through your hair and with a grin you push yourself atop him and grind down.

❇to be concluded❇

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm feeling this whole "you don't own me" treck. Too many characters tripping over the Captain. For once someone needs to put him in his place.  
> It's always fun to be a brat.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plot!  
> It's a mission and y/n is not happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I wrote this while on cold medicine.  
> Shameless excuse to wear clothes that trigger Steve's ire.  
> The jump and loose plot do lead into the next chapter and closer to the smutty end I'm hoping for.

**❇5❇**

Warning: it gets weird. Yea I know. Just go with it.

* * *

  
The motel had been home for the past couple days as the mission hit an impasse.

Their target was sick. A flu had taken the Kingpin down but they needed to catch him in the act.

Till then the team kept watch and used this time to 'let loose'. 

The idea of sipping beer with the team would have been nice but it was still a mission and Rogers refused to look at anyone but the Kingpin.

Maybe it was because you brought up Maxon, the bastard brother, an integral piece of information that hadn't been in any of yours or the teams reports but it was obvious.

If you can't reach your target then you find a backdoor to them. Maxon was the backdoor. Rogers disagreed - the motel was across the dirt road of a bar, the same bar Maxon frequented. 

Cheap tap, decent steak, and a mechanical bull. 

First night there you'd swooped in as one of your favorite alter egos. A bit of naive city girl and a touch of crazy courtesy of your favorite comic character - Harley Quinn. You've done many undercover missions with your team.

From homeless to butcher, you could play the stereotypical dumb blond to hot smarty pants librarian. 

They'd never seen you as this girl. 

Cowgirl boots, short shorts, and tank tops.

Not a scandal but you made yourself stand out. Between tequila body shots and making friends with the bartender which in turn - the next day - making small talk with Mr. Maxon himself. 

The snakeskin cowboy hat was nice and his belt buckle did intrigue you. It had been a conversation starter that set you apart from the other girls swarming around him like flies to shit. 

When you sat crushed next to him, his arm tossed over your shoulder, and purchased your own snakeskin hat and belt buckle... He called you "lass" and kissed your shoulder.

That night you had danced on the bartop, rode the bull, ignored the cold stare from Rogers, and 'stumbled' home to your motel. 

Unfortunately you hadn't been kidnapped like the other woman you were chasing and Rogers insisted your ploy was a waste of resources.

Rogers was definitely the party pooper of the team.

Tonight you dressed a whole other level of... Slutty. It was a desperate move and you told yourself it was no different than your stint as a party stripper. You'd take the cowboy boots over those heels any day.

  
The contest theme was 'daisy dukes' and you weren't the only girl out there wearing just enough to be decent. Digging deep into your luggage for your special pair of shorts that cut across your ass and the final piece to put it together.

  
It had been sitting in your luggage for well over a year, tags still in. Tonight would be _fun_.  
Staring at yourself in the mirror you didn't get paid enough to do this to yourself. You looked... Pornish? Trashy? Eye catching? Patriotic? Maybe tonight would be the night they'd snatch you up. Being bait would mean this mission was over sooner. You wanted your bathtub and fancy bath salts and not a questionable bathtub with dollar tree toiletries.

  
The kingpin was down but it didn't mean his subordinates weren't hunting for fresh meat. Drugs and sex sold even through something as a flu. 

  
Flanking you was your partner - Aaron. Tall, lean, and quiet. The last several missions he had been a silent pillar of eye rolls and glares. This mission though came with a special treat - Alex! 

  
Tall, lean, not the least bit quiet, a spitting image of his twin except for the small diamond piercing on his nose. Standing between the two was... Titalating. 

  
Somewhere in the distance you hear a loud swear and scuffle as you enter the bar. "Y/N!" Alex smacks you on the ass and you jump at the unexpected hit but the cat calls garnered keep you from smacking him.

Hard. 

  
You go to the group that called you out. Snake skin cowboy hats, pistols, and cigars reminded you of an old west movie but you oooh and aaaw respectively before giggling and leaning on the table with your elbows. "Mr. Maxon!" You flutter your eyes at the overweight man. "You promised a dance." You wag a finger, "Naughty naughty."

  
The man chuckles. His cheeks are ruddy and he pulls out the cigar he was chewing on, "business called."

  
You pout, "Cows can wait." Straightening yourself you settle your hands on your bare waist. "Bartender said today was daisy duke night." You glanced down at your slingshot bikini, a metallic blue with white stars. It was a halter style that matched your american flag style shorts that were ripped in the back, your ass peeking through the shredded denim. The bare minimum was covered.

**sigh**

  
"Shit lass you won." The man's eyes raked you over and you rub at the fabric at your breasts that were just wide enough to cover the swell. The flash of a bit of your nipple was met with the titters of the men at the table. Adult men were no better than little boys. 

  
"You think? I heard there's a money prize." You bite your lip and glance over at the bartender, "hopefully it's enough to pay off my car?" 

  
A hand clenches around your wrist and a much older man with a scruffy beard said, "A young snapper like yourself could make what you owe in a night." You ignore the way his eyes drifted over you with practices ease. Your cover wasn't the brightest tool in the shed. 

You have a sigh. "See I told that Bartender too. Said there was no positions." Pulling away you waved at the table, "Still waiting for that dance Mr. Maxon." And you were gone.

Back in the crowd.

  
The bathing suit left your full back exposed with a whisp of fabric that was supposed to be the thong. Your scar that puckered from the old bullet wound and other faded over time brought you more attention and with more attention came to you winning the competition. 

  
There was no cash prize but you got a free shirt, a free toss on the mechanical bull, and no dance from your target.

  
It was irking you that Rogers was right. Spending this much time on an unnecessary targer who wouldn't even take you out back and shove you into a car was... Disheartening. At least you managed to tag some more men.

  
A bar fight breaks the monotonous of the evening and you take the opportunity to try and slip away. Alex swoops in with a beer bottle and an arm around your waist as he makes you take a sip. The beer tastes warm and it was a double IPA - not your favorite - and it dribbles down your chin when it's tilted too high. "Ass-" the words cut off when his lips latch onto your throat and bites.

  
Your eyes flutter and *that's* not faked.  
"Careful." You grit out aware of the eyes. 

  
Alex's tongue licks from collar, chin, lips, and flicks the tip of your nose. Wiping at your face you glare. "Cap calling a night."

  
A pout puckers your lips, "Pawpaw ready for his nap?" Rogers did really hate being called out on his age. 

  
Alex chuckles, worry in his eyes. "He don't look none too happy Y/N." He takes a swig of his beer.

  
Your fingers hook at the edge of your jeans, the pockets large enough to hold a quarter, and sway left to right and shrug. Shy even. "Pawpaw needs a nap." Roger needed to back off. "You know how he is if he's awake past his bedtime."

  
His eyes take in the extra span of skin, the curve of your hip and the low dip of your mound barely covered by a ridiculous scrap of fabric. "He's," Alex eyes drag up to meet your amused one's, "listening."

  
Of course he was. You're sure the bastard had even bugged your room let alone leave the coms on 24/7 around you. "Next secret Santa I'll get him those electric snippers for the nose and ears." Everyone knew he had it out for you, petty aggression wasn't easy to hide in a team of agents as skilled as they all were.

  
"Y/N." Alex warned low, his eyes grazing the room and flicking up to where their leader sat. 

  
You were tired of this cat and mouse game between you and the Captain. "A nap can help his memory. You know. Dementia is sad." You shrug, "bet Pawpaw forgot the meaning of the trip." You lived and breathed bothering Rogers. You were sure this time your tags that you yet again painstakingly slipped onto Maxon's goons were as useless as the last ones.

  
Alex moved closer, his tone low, fingers tilting your chin up. "Shhh."

  
"I marked three." You whisper, pressing yourself close, "Did they get away?" The man noded, "This is why I don't work with crotchety geezers." You back away and march out, "Fix it before I do." It was an empty threat but they didn't need to know that.

  
Angrily you practically stomp accross the dirt road and cuss a storm. The rev of an engine doesn't turn your head but the bag over your head and the weightless feeling of your body being picked up and it's too late to scream as your tossed into a car where hands are grabbing you and something hard hits you in the head.

  
Knocking you out cold.

**❇to be concluded❇**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is less... Dramatic.  
> Hopefully.  
> Cross fingers.

**Author's Note:**

> Did we survive?  
> Maybe?  
> Parts are short and no beta so good luck ;)


End file.
